


Team Bonding Activities

by daroos



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Oral Sex, Orgy, Sex Pollen, Threesome, due to sex pollen, enthusiastic sex, moresome, not Turn Turn Turn compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 19:50:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1561997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daroos/pseuds/daroos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fuck-or-die infections <i>were</i> properly addressed in the SHIELD employment packet. PwP</p>
            </blockquote>





	Team Bonding Activities

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Levynite who provided beta wrangling. Posted for Trope_Bingo's Fuck-or-die square.

“We will handle this like we have handled everything else this world has seen fit to throw at us,” Coulson said, his voice somehow steady.

“How?” Fitz practically screeched.

“It’s not as though science and spy shenanigans are going to be much help in this situation,” Simmons added, her voice strained.

May strode in and shrugged out of her jacket. “As a team. We’ll handle this as a team.”

Coulson and May exchanged an unreadable look. Ward glared at them in open alarm. “You are not suggesting what I think you’re suggesting,” he said.

May narrowed her eyes at Ward but spoke to Coulson. “I’ve turned temperature controls up and security locked the exits. Tower control is aware we will be immobile for the next day at least.”

“Woah, woah, hold on. Spell it out for us not in the magic eye communication club,” Skye said.

“We’re locked in,” Fitz replied, an edge of panic in his voice.

“And everyone else is locked out,” Simmons added. “It’s the best way to contain the infection.”

“Yes, and we’ll _die_ ,” Fitz said. He looked around the assembled group with increasingly wild eyes.

“Not necessarily,” May said evenly. The fact that she kept her voice even was astounding unto itself. There was the faint sheen of sweat at her brow and her throat. Her fingers twitched and she licked her lips in an almost compulsive gesture. Everyone else was no better -- much worse, truth be told.

“How?” He was actively scornful. “It’s not as though we’re going to break out into some sort of—”

“Orgy?” Simmons finished.

“I did not think the fuck or die clause was—” Skye broke off, glancing around. “I ripped that out of my employment packet before I signed.”

“Then we’ll need to get a verbal confirmation of consent on the black box before things start,” Coulson said, implacable as ever. “Let’s go.” He nodded towards the front of the plane.

May stood and began stripping off her tank tops.

“Can we talk about this for a minute, maybe?” Ward asked.

“Oh my god, we know you two are having sex,” Simmons said. “We’re not _idiots_.”

“Pants off, agent,” May instructed. “You too,” she added with a nod towards FitzSimmons.

Skye came back from the cockpit visibly shaken. “I did not know SHIELD knew about my IUD. Also for the record, I could have lived happily forever without knowing SHIELD approved of vaginal fisting.”

Coulson shrugged.

“Gloves are under the bar if you’re into that,” May informed her.

“Listen up people; consent is key. Ask before you touch, check in often. Everyone is cleared by medical, and contraceptives are in use. Safety words for the bus are green, yellow, red. Simmons -- can you get the lubricant from the lab please?”

May was down to her sports bra. She unhooked her belt and dropped her pants and panties at the same time. Fitz’s mouth hung open. Ward cast one last hesitant look around the crowd before he focused on his own belt, hindered by a growing erection. Coulson loosened his tie and began on his shirt buttons.

“You are all way too calm about this,” Skye said, a slight tremor betraying her hunger for contact. They were all feeling it -- the need to press into another person and become one.

“This isn’t the first... Compromising position I’ve dealt with,” Coulson said, choosing his words carefully even as he dropped his shirt and tie in a rumpled heap.

“That was with Strike Team Delta, though,” Fitz said. “I mean, who would say no to those two—” he cut himself off.

May wriggled out of her sports bra, shook her hair over her shoulder, and sprawled on the couch in all her naked glory. She gestured to Fitz. “Be quiet and come here.”

“Yes ma’am.” Fitz shuffled over on automatic. Simmons returned with the industrial pump-bottle of lube and set it on the coffee table in front of May like an offering.

“Pants, everyone,” May ordered with a frown. “It’s like you’ve never been to an orgy before.”

“Now that you mention—” Fitz received a stern look and shut his mouth, shucking his button up and undershirt in one go. His pants went next, though he shied away from removing his briefs. May pointed to the ground in front of her couch and he dropped. She smirked. He looked up at her with something like adoration and something like fear. Almost tenderly, she wove her fingers into the curl of his hair and scraped her fingers over his scalp. He leaned into the contact and sighed, a tiny bit of tension leaking out of him as his shoulders dropped and he leaned back into May’s bare leg.

“Ward.” Ward perked up at her call like a dog on point. “Simmons and Skye.” Simmons had an expression like Christmas had come early while Skye looked a bit more overwhelmed.

May gave up listening to them as soon as Simmons began grilling the other two on what they liked, all while helping Skye out of her pants. May stroked lightly down Fitz’s neck and back over his scalp in a slow rhythm. “So you heard about Strike Team Delta?” she asked, her iron control keeping her muscles relaxed on the couch.

“All of Science Division heard about Strike Team Delta. There was that scandal with one of the researchers procuring some of the compound—”

“—to instigate sexual relations with a coworker. I remember that.” Coulson had approached while she’d been distracted with the rest, down to boxer shorts and his undershirt. Arousal buzzed under her skin, lapping like waves over her and rushing through her thoughts. Based on Fitz’s glazed look he was suffering similarly. “I believe Agent Romanov was asked to deal with that.”

May and Coulson shared a smirk. “She does have... issues... with people who try to get around consent,” May agreed.

“Speaking of.” Coulson looked meaningfully at her vulva. “May I?”

“Please.”

A flush pinked Coulson’s cheeks and he licked his lips. Coulson kept his undershirt on, still sensitive about his scars even through the haze of lust and the hunger for touch. Fitz was transfixed, leaning his head into May’s bare thigh. Coulson kissed a trail from her knee up her inner thigh to the crease of her hip. He took a moment to breathe and gather himself, savoring the scent of her and giving his hands free reign to roam across her stomach and over her hips. She stroked her hand along Fitz’s jaw and ran the tip of one finger over his lips. Fitz moved just enough to catch it between his teeth, holding it with a light pressure. He sucked it into his mouth and laved his tongue across the pad of her fingertip, moaning softly.

When Coulson licked her clit the first time, May’s fingers tightened in Fitz’s hair against her conscious command. She let out a sigh and felt something within herself begin to relax just as her arousal began the tortuously enjoyable climb towards climax. Coulson was clever and experienced with his mouth, and May was not in a mood to play coy. She moaned in appreciation and cursed when he found just the right combination of pressure and friction. Fitz kissed tentatively at her thigh, his own hand moving in a stuttering slide up her ankle to her calve. She bucked into Coulson’s mouth, and came with a grunt and a cry.

Coulson rose from his crouch with a triumphant expression. “Still got it?” he asked with a smirk.

“Still got it,” May confirmed.

“Wait, have you two—” Fitz began, breaking off with a blush. He ducked his head, but that merely brought his eyes in line with Coulson’s dick, stiff and ready with arousal. It was just the infection; he didn’t normally have the intense physical need to go down on his boss. “Could I— that is, Sir.” Fitz licked his lips. “Would it bother you terribly if I—”

Fitz could hear the fond frustration in Coulson’s voice when he interrupted. “Oh, you talk too much.”

“Sir?”

“Yes, please, a thousand times yes.”

“Listen to him,” May instructed, the fingers on his scalp tightening in his hair. She guided him towards Coulson with a sure pressure.

Fitz took down as much as Coulson’s cock as he could manage and nearly choked himself in the process. He rose to his knees to get a better angle and steadied himself with a hand on Coulson’s hip. 

Fitz had experimented with his fair share of males in his years at the Academy -- the scientists there who had bothered to come out of their shells and have a sexual awakening were surprisingly open-minded and willing with the right combination of social lubricant and scientific goading. Fitz tended to be more of a tentative lover, more than a bit submissive, and much more prone to a caress than force. He let his submissive instincts take over, mouth soft, tongue pliant as his world narrowed to the desire to pleasure the other man. Fitz’s eyes closes and his hands went soft and limp against his thighs as he encouraged Coulson to fuck his mouth with moans. He was so absorbed in his task that he didn’t notice May had shifted from the couch and fitted herself down his back until she reached around his hip with a lube-slicked palm and took him in hand.

He thrust into her grip with a surprised ‘mmpf’, choking himself just a bit at the same time. He pulled back to catch his breath and tried to focus his eyes. Coulson murmured encouraging words and May stroked him. As he thrust into her hand -- so different from his own and more exciting for it -- her hips moved with his as she matched his movements, molded down his back.

Fitz could tell that Coulson was close by his murmurs and groans, and the way the skin of his cock moved. “You’re good at this,” May crooned in his ear, approving and pleased. The thought that he was pleasing his partners fired the arousal that had been burning in his bones into a new height of pleasure. He pulled his lips from Coulson’s cock just in time for Coulson to spill all over down his chest.

“Sorry,” Coulson said, chagrined. Fitz was too distracted by his own orgasm, intensified by May sucking a dark mark just under his jaw. 

When he could talk once more he shook his head. “Not a problem. I don’t like the taste so well, and I don’t mind the mess.” 

Coulson brought a hand towel over which May took to tend to the younger man and her own sticky hand. He swiped a hand over his forehead and collapsed on the couch in a sprawl. “I am not as young as the last time we did this,” he noted.

May smirked over Fitz’s shoulder. “Getting tired, old man?” she asked.

“No. Just enjoying the clarity of thought my refractory period is affording me.” He nodded towards Fitz, hazy eyes not quite cleared of confusion and lust.

“How are the kids doing?” May asked, still focused on Fitz.

Coulson lolled his head along the back of the couch. Simmons was on her back bent over the other couch, her hips propped on one of the arms, her back arched. Her legs were wrapped around Ward, heels digging into his back while she displayed surprising flexibility in simultaneously giving cunnilingus to Skye. Over Simmons, Skye and Ward made out while his hands kneaded Simmons’ breasts. “They’re doing fine. We’re switching it up next round?” Coulson asked. May nodded in confirmation. “Who do you want?”

“Ward and CO’s choice.”

“Skye. I’d like to see what the science division can get up to as a team.”

May chuckled. “Fair enough.” She glanced at Fitz, already stiffening once more, his eyes blown with arousal. She crooked a finger at him. “Get over here. It looks like Simmons is taking her time with them; might be a while yet.”  
\--  
When properly treated with repeated orgasms within the enthusiastic company of others thus enjoying themselves, the end stage of the infection appeared to be passing out completely for several hours. Coulson woke with a groan, his shoulder and back cramping abominably from a combination of the sprawl he had slept in and the unexpected physicality of the previous twenty hours. He dislodged Ward’s arm when he rolled to a seated position to survey the damage. 

The pump-top of the lube bottle had, at some point, gotten lost. Ward’s arm which had not been flung over Coulson’s side was handcuffed to a piece of furniture and suspended well above his head. At some point May and Ward had dragged the bunk mattresses in to displace the coffee table, creating a padded area between the couches and the comfy chairs. May was asleep upright, her legs crossed and Skye’s head pillowed on a thigh. Fitz and Simmons curled around Skye, haphazardly intertwined.

Fitz snuffled into Skye’s collarbone and murmured something about five more minutes. Simmons’ eye slitted open and met Phil’s gaze. She had a decided ‘cat who got the cream’ look, even though only a small portion of her face was visible under her spill of loose hair.

Phil sighed and levered himself to his feet to find the key to the handcuffs; the report was going to be awful enough to write without having to fill everything in for a one-handed specialist.


End file.
